


Roman

by DirtyKnots



Series: Roman [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bestiality, Established Relationship, Felching, Future Fic, M/M, Misunderstandings, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Canon, Rimming, Secrets, Zoophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Once upon a time, Stiles thought he and Derek were building the perfect relationship. Unfortunately for Stiles, Derek was already in a relationship. When the truth comes out, Stiles needs to decide if he can handle it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dirtcore Dreams (NakedEye)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NakedEye/gifts).



> Read the tags. Don't be that person.
> 
> This grew out of an old as hell conversation with DirtcoreDreams and I finally finished writing it. Happy belated birthday, merry belated Christmas, and all that jazz.

Stiles was nervous when he asked Derek to move in officially - they hadn’t been together long, but it felt right. There’d always been something there, and after the rescue with the FBI and then facing down everything in Beacon Hills one last time, it seemed like they needed to finally see it through. But the long distance was wearing on them both. Stiles skipped a lot in his training after the incidents, but it worked out when he didn’t have to spend too much more time (less than a year really) at Quantico before he got an assignment that meant he could work from home. He’s pretty sure Rafe helped with that honestly. But now he has a small house between Frisco and Beacon Hills, close enough to both to check in when necessary.

His job really worked out too - sure, the FBI thought they were giving him the shitty grunt work, and he made sure to grumble just enough to toss suspicion when he interacted with his superiors, but it couldn’t have been a better job. Stiles got to wade through the tips that the FBI affectionately referred to as “crackpot stew”, people who claimed they saw bigfoot or werewolves or zombies. He kinda felt like the guys from Men in Black if he was honest, only instead of the tabloids, he just listened to the report calls line or read the numerous emails that now flooded his inbox. And thanks to Danny’s assistance and lessons, he effectively erased any from existence that actually led to something worthwhile for the pack. He was good at making sure the office saw enough “official” filings of nonsense calls to not make them wonder whether he was even looking through anything while still clearing out everything that was actually real. He knew he was mostly set, and while part of him wished he was a field agent, the rest of him wasn’t all that worried because in the end, he was, it was just that the FBI didn’t know about that part. It meant, however, that he was pretty stable in his life, not really any risk of having to pack up and move to another office...which meant that he could actually offer something to Derek when he asked him to move in, a place by his side and close enough to the pack to be there when they were needed, but far enough that everyone stayed out of their business.

Stiles asked him the next time he came to town to visit. Derek said yes, against all the odds Stiles’ brain had made up to tell him how it wouldn’t work out, and now they were driving to Derek’s place to pack up his life and his dog (he had a dog, which Stiles only found out the last time Derek came to stay because the poor boy had gotten sick and Derek had to cut his visit short and relieve his neighbor). And Stiles wants to feel great about everything right now, except the closer they get to the city Derek lives in, the more withdrawn the wolf is, his body tensing, shoulders curling in slightly, and Stiles worries.

***

“Stiles...there's... _fuck_.” Derek's voice trails off and he scrubs a hand over his face. They've just parked in the underground garage below Derek's apartment, after Stiles had spent the rest of the drive watching Derek tense further and further. Stiles tries to wait him out, but Derek doesn't seem like he's going to gather himself anytime soon, hunching over a bit in the driver's seat, face buried in his hands. Stiles reaches out, tentatively, stroking his fingers over Derek's taut arm, gently curling them between Derek's own fingers and softly tugging until the hands fall away and he can turn Derek's chin to face him. 

“Derek - whatever it is, it'll be okay. You can tell me. I promise.”

“There's someone else.” Derek says it in a rush, eyes averted, and Stiles can't help his gasped inhale, his own hands curling back towards his body.

“Oh. I. Oh.” He can hear the shakiness of his breathing, begins to hunch over, one of his palms pressing on his chest because this isn't at all what he'd expected. Why would Derek say yes? Why bring him all the way here just to tell him it wasn't going to happen? Why, why, why? He thinks maybe he's said some of that out loud, but he isn't sure. It takes him a moment to realize Derek's hand is on his arm, his voice trying to coax Stiles back from the edge, pleading note in his tone.

“Stiles, not like that. I _will_ explain, please just don't think the worst. _Stiles_.” He finally snaps his eyes back to Derek's face, gaze watery at the edges, and is startled to see naked fear in Derek's face. Everything they've been through, and he's never seen Derek look this scared. It gives him enough pause to shift his hand in a kind of “explain then” motion.

“He knows about you, he's always known. Even before we started, him and I.”

“But _I_ wasn't worth telling?” And there it is, the banked anger that always lives deep down inside of Stiles, burning at his gut.

“Please, it's not what you think.” Derek winces at Stiles’ raised eyebrows. “I - I'll show you, and then, if you want to go, I won't stop you. Please.” Stiles doesn't answer, doesn't trust himself not to say something he'll regret, but he does get out of the car, doesn't even slam the door, just moves around to the driver's side and waits for Derek to join him. He'd brought an overnight bag, knowing they'd have to pack up and call the movers to arrange for the boxes to be picked up in the morning, and he does make sure to grab that out before Derek locks the car and leads him to the elevator. He doesn't want to have to ask later to get it, just in case he isn't staying. He swings back to hurt during the ride up to the apartment. 

“What's - what's his name?” His voice cracks on the first try, so Stiles clears it and asks again. 

“Roman.” Derek's still looking at Stiles with fear and a bit of apprehension, so Stiles doesn't crack any sarcastic jokes about the name - doesn't stop him from thinking them, but _he_ isn't the asshole in this situation. He just nods, keeping his eyes on the digital floor display. It isn't much longer before the elevator glides to a stop, the doors opening onto a nice but generic hallway. Stiles follows Derek to the last apartment, a corner unit that’s bracketed by maintenance rooms - because of course Derek doesn't want _actual_ neighbors next to him. Stiles doesn't even feign surprise. The door is unlocked and pushed open and Stiles wonders too late if the other man lives here too. There are lights on further inside, so Stiles thinks that, yes, he might. It's another blow, and he isn't sure how he forces himself to take the few steps needed to cross the threshold. Derek steps in behind him, careful not to actually touch Stiles, and closes the door, flicking a switch so the entry and living room are bathed in the soft glow of a few scattered lamps. 

There's nothing that gives away a clue of who this other man is, at least not out in plain sight. Maybe he and Derek haven't been living together long. Stiles moves further into the living room, dropping his bag by the front door first, angling towards a shelf lined with photos. There are a lot of the pack, some of Derek with a large mastiff, but none anywhere of Derek with a stranger. It's weird. Stiles only nods when Derek says he's going to put his own bag away. He's wandering around the living room, looking for evidence - anything that isn't clearly Derek's, when he hears the soft sounds of Derek speaking, coming from down the hallway. He strains his ears but can't make out the words, can't hear a voice replying. He's leaning against the back of the sofa, arms crossed over his chest, facing the hall when Derek comes striding down it. Stiles tries to peer around him, looks for the other man, but only sees the mastiff from the photos, tail wagging as he follows his owner. Derek looks even more nervous when he stops a few feet from Stiles, the dog coming to sit at his side. Derek’s fingers scritch between the dog's ears and he takes a deep breath.

“Stiles...I want you to meet Roman.” Stiles looks behind Derek again, eyes straining to see down the hall, thinking the man is lurking further back. But there isn't anyone there, and when Stiles focuses on Derek he can see Derek is looking elsewhere, follows his line of sight...to the dog.

“Oh _fuck you_ Derek. If you didn't want to be with me, you didn't have to come up with some elaborate, bullshit lie. Despite what you seem to think, I _am_ a big boy. I _can_ take no for an answer. You didn't have to do….this.” His arms flail a bit like they haven't done since before he left high school, indicating the dog and apartment. He turns to go, anger and pain warring in his belly, but is stopped by a large palm wrapping around his bicep. He turns a glare on it, as if he could burn the touch from his body, follows the slope of skin up to Derek's face. The fear is back, shadowed by a sort of desperation.

“Please, I'm not - I told you I'd show you. You promised-”

“No, Derek, I didn't.” Stiles manages to shake off Derek's grip, the words obviously startling him.

“You're...okay. Okay, you didn't, but please, just - please just hear me out.” It goes against his better judgement, but he nods, lets Derek lead him to the sofa. Derek sits across from him on the loveseat, the dog - Roman - hopping up next to him. And then Stiles waits, and waits some more, watching Derek open and close his mouth, trying to start. He can see the frustration building, but refuses to help Derek out. It feels like an eternity before Derek actually says something.

***

 

“I have trust issues.” _No shit_ , Stiles thinks, but wisely doesn't actually say. Not now that Derek's actually talking. “I'm sure you know that,” there's a wry grin and Derek presses on, “so relationships are hard for me. When I was away, it wasn't really any easier. Cora was good, we got closer, but she had people - people who didn't live through the things I did. Eventually I couldn't - she had a pack, and they would've taken me, but they weren't _my_ pack. If that makes sense.”

Stiles nods, eyes taking in the earnestness in Derek's expression. He settles back a little more into the sofa and sees some of the tension seep from Derek's shoulders when he realizes Stiles isn't going to walk out in the middle of his explanation. Stiles’ eyes catch on the way one of Derek's hands is covering Roman's paw, thumb stroking across the knuckles as if it was someone else's hand. There's a strange twist in his gut then, but he's not sure what it means, what he feels.

“I was on my own for awhile and it was...better? I stopped looking over my shoulder all the time, anyhow. But, eventually, I got tired of moving around. I wanted to settle down and I found this place and I liked it, and I have good neighbors - older people, nice, and quiet. But it's lonely. Or it was. Don't get me wrong I tried dating people after I got settled, but I couldn't ever relax - I kept waiting for them to reveal they were evil, or to feel like I could tell them about myself, what I am. It never happened though. And then I found Roman.” Derek glances briefly at the dog, a small smile flashing over his face, something Stiles had gotten used to seeing directed at him lately. The tug is a little harder this time. “There's a park a few blocks over, and one day he was just there. He was maybe a year old when I found him, abandoned, hungry, and like me - not really trusting at all. He wouldn't come near me for the first couple of weeks.” Derek laughs, like it's an old joke, smiles again at Roman, gets a wet tongue up the side of his face.

Stiles feels a sharper tug when Derek's eyes go soft after he's been licked. Finally recognizes it for what it is - jealousy. Derek's looking at Roman in the way Stiles thought was reserved only for him, all open and affectionate. It makes him reassess - because maybe, just maybe, Derek really isn't lying here. Maybe what he said is real. And Stiles doesn't understand, but he's more willing to listen now than he was a few minutes ago. He's already moving before he makes a conscious decision to do it, scooting forward on the sofa, elbows propped on his knees. Derek doesn't miss it, the change that must've come over Stiles’ face. Stiles watches him blow out a relieved sounding breath before he continues.

“I visited him every day. Took him food, fresh water. I don't really know why, but I couldn't just leave him be. I talked too, got him used to my voice. I never pushed. I'd set it all down, back off enough that he felt safe to eat and drink. The first few days he wouldn't even do that. But he was starving, and eventually he gave in. After a couple of weeks he stopped waiting for me to move away, would just come up and start eating, so I'd sit next to him. Another week later he finally let me pet him, just wriggled his way under my arm after he finished eating, gave me his belly. I found out then he had a collar, his fur had been hiding it. The tag had a name but nothing else. He followed me when I left the park that day, has been with me ever since. I got him new tags, made sure he had his shots. I tried to get him a dog bed, but on his first night here he just helped himself to the other half of mine, and I couldn't kick him out.”

Stiles waits for more of the story, but Derek seems reluctant to go on. Red is starting to creep up his neck, across the apple of his cheeks, his hand seems to be gripping Roman's paw now, thumb no longer skating across it.

“You,” Stiles has to clear his throat, “you said you were dating someone else - him, the do- Roman?” Derek nods, but still doesn't say anything. “How? I mean, how did it start?” Derek flushes harder, averts his gaze, but finally starts talking again.

“We came back from a run one day last summer, it was hot and I was still a little tired when we started. When we got in the apartment I kind of just collapsed on the floor in front of the couch. Roman was still amped up, dancing around me and nipping, and I was laughing, ruffling his fur, when he straddled me and started licking at my face. He was playing and I was jokingly pushing his head around to get him to knock it off when he kissed me.” Stiles knows his eyebrows are up, disbelieving, because dogs don't kiss. They lick, sure, but it's not the same.

“I know what it sounds like, but that's what it was - what it felt like. He licked across my lips, and then inside of my mouth when I opened it to tell him to cut it out. And then he kept at it, moving closer, pushing his tongue in deeper, not letting up, and I - I'd been so alone, but Roman trusted me, and I trusted him. He cared about me, and he wouldn't betray me. So, I kissed him back. I don't know how long we stayed like that, kissing each other, long enough for him to push in closer, sit in my lap. I was ha- aroused,” Derek’s flush gets deeper as he adjusts what he was about to say, “he was too, but he wasn't trying to mount me, he was being patient. I've never had that before. I jerked us off together, and I thought I should feel guilty but I didn't. It just...grew from there. He's - he accepts me, and he loves me back. I told him about you, right from the start, even before we did anything, before I found you again. And I _wanted_ to tell you about him, but I didn't know how - _how_ could I explain _this_?”

Stiles shakes his head, because Derek's right. How could he have made Stiles understand? Hell, he's sitting here and he still doesn't really understand.

“Derek this is...I don't really know what to say. It's...extreme. And I'm not…” He trails off, for once in his life not knowing what to say.

“I love you, Stiles. But I love him too. And I can't - _won't_ \- leave him.” That stings a little, and Stiles rubs at his chest again. He wants to ask why, why Derek can’t give up a _dog_ for fuck’s sake, but he knows that’s unfair. Derek just explained more about his feelings and why he has them than he ever has before. It leaves Stiles at a loss, and he just gives in and says so.

“So where does that leave us? What do you want me to say here?”

“Say you won't leave me.” There's a desperate edge to it and Derek practically slides over the coffee table to reach for Stiles. He gives in and meets Derek halfway, arms wrapping around him, the edge of the table digging into his hip. He can hear Roman whining behind Derek, but holds on tighter for another second. When he lets go, he eases himself back onto the sofa, watches Derek resettle on the loveseat, Roman burrowing under his arm.

“I'm...I don't know how this is supposed to work. I’m not sure I can make it work,” there's a measure of defeat already settling over Derek's features so Stiles hurries to finish, “I can't make you promises right now, and it's not fair to expect me to. I don't know how I feel about this, how I'm going to feel when I have time to process. You know how I feel about you, _you know_ , and I understand why you were afraid to tell me this, but you broke my trust Derek, you lied to me.”

***

Stiles spends the night in the guest room, though he doesn't sleep. He'd only packed an overnight bag, hadn't really anticipated any of this, but he knows Derek's not going to be moving back with him in the morning. It _hurts_ , an ache that burrows down deep, thrums along in time to his heartbeat. Watching Derek and Roman retire to Derek’s - no, their - room was hard. Stiles has never been great at sharing - and this isn't even the kind of sharing he'd fantasized about here and there (because honestly, what happily sexually active person hasn't at least _thought_ about a threesome). It's a lot, too much maybe, right this second, and his emotions are still raw. 

By the time the sun comes up, Stiles has made some decisions, and he's not really happy about any of them, but he just...he has to do what's best for himself here. Derek is already up, waiting in the living room with two steaming cups of coffee, when Stiles emerges, overnight bag in his hand. He sits across from Derek, takes a few sips of his coffee before he starts

“So, _obviously_ , you're not moving in with me today,” there's a sharp gasp from Derek, and Stiles sees the hurt on his face when he looks up. Stiles has to reign himself in so he doesn’t snap at Derek for somehow thinking all of this would have blown over in the night - the night he spent alone in the guestroom while Derek and his...his _boyfriend_ slept together. He has to take a deep breath to steady himself, get out the rest of what he’d planned to say.

“I'm not saying never, Derek, but you had to know I was going to need time.” His voice has gone softer, head tilting, eyes pleading with Derek to understand. Stiles waits for an acknowledgement, gets a short nod. “I...care about you, _I do_ , but I told you last night, I don't know how I feel about this. I don't know if I want to do this, let alone if I _can_ do this. I do know that I need honesty from here on out, if I'm going to try to understand. There can't be any more secrets, no lies of omission. I have to be able to trust you again.” His voice breaks and he has to stop, take a minute.

“I don't want to lose you.” Derek barely whispers the words, and it hurts something deep inside of Stiles. 

“I don't want to lose you either, but right now it doesn't feel like I ever really had you. This is so big, such a big thing to keep from me.” He sighs, starting to feel like he's repeating himself. “I need to go home, to think about this all. I'm not leaving you, okay, I'm trying not to at least, trying to wrap my head around all of this. I just - I just have to think. I'll call you later, okay?”

He's moving towards the door, bag over his shoulder, when Derek manages to unstick himself from the sofa. He's got Stiles wrapped up in his arms before Stiles can even blink, nose shoved into the join of Stiles’ neck and shoulder, inhaling frantically. Stiles can feel the brush of Derek's eyelashes against his skin, the slight dampness, and has to scrunch his eyes to fight against the prickle of tears. He gives in, holds Derek back, allows it when Derek's face moves, lips capturing Stiles’. The kiss is desperate, their hands roaming, tangling in hair, pulling each other closer, and Stiles is hardening in his jeans. He can feel an answering hardness when Derek slots a knee between his, pushes into it before his brain flashes an image of Roman behind his eyes, and he pushes away.

“Derek…”

“I'm sorry, it's, I…text me when you're home, please, so I know you made it safe.” Stiles is the one who nods this time, brushes his fingers across Derek's wrist as he moves past him and out the door. He manages not to cry until he's in the back of the town car he rented to take him home - it's an expense not really in his budget, but he didn't think he'd be safe to drive, and he couldn't fathom sitting on a bus for the few hours it would take to get home. 

He spends the entire ride thinking about it, turning it over in his head, trying to imagine how Derek got to that point with a dog. He's no closer to understanding when the car rolls to a stop in front of his small house, but he's worlds more exhausted by it all. It's an effort to climb the few short steps to his porch, unlock the door, drag himself down the hall to his bed. He feels like he's running on fumes, drained in every way by the last 24 hours.

There's a small bout of hysterical laughter at that realization of how quickly everything had fallen apart. This time yesterday he'd been so full of joy, getting ready to move the man he loved into his home, and now it’s ashes in his mouth. He’s here, _alone_ , in his cold bed and empty house, and the man he loves is in love with someone else. With Stiles, too, but at the moment that doesn't feel like much at all, because Derek isn't _here_. Stiles’ insides twist as he pulls his phone free of his pocket, shoots off a quick text, ‘ _home safe_ ,’ and nothing else before silencing it and dropping it off the side of the bed.

“ _Everything fucking sucks_.” It's mildly cathartic to say it out loud. He laughs again briefly, dissolving into sobs. He barely manages to toe his shoes off before curling up on his side, tugging his blankets over his body until he's cocooned, hiding himself from everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come prompt me on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/dirtyknots).  
> All of my additional contact information can be found on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile)!


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles sleeps for 12 hours and wakes up with a headache, eyes sore and still puffy. When he finally manages to drag himself from his bed, he can see his phone on the floor, blinking colored lights indicating that he’s got unread messages and also that it’s on the verge of dying. He scoops it up and attaches it to the charger on his nightstand, pointedly not looking at the brief flare of life on the screen as he sets it down and leaves the room.

Stiles manages to turn the coffee pot on and head to his front door, noting with dismay that he’d been so worn out he’d forgotten to lock it. The bright sunshine when he opens it to retrieve his mail makes him cry out in pain, eyes slamming closed and forcing him to slap around with his hands until he can empty the box and push the door closed, grateful he’d drawn his curtains before they’d left. That thought sends a sharp spasm through his ribcage, knowing he was supposed to have Derek here with him already, supposed to be unpacking and having breakfast and coffee together. The mail slips from his lax fingers and scatters on the floor, but he leaves it, manages to pour himself a cup of coffee with shaking hands before retreating back to his bedroom, curling under his blankets and watching the patterned blinking on his phone while he takes occasional too-hot sips.

He thinks about reading the messages, then thinks about how he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from replying. Instead, he flips the phone so the glass front is down, the blinking no longer visible, and drags his work laptop off of his nightstand and into his lap. He’d left it behind because he had a week off for the move. Stiles had bought and set special security on this one with his own income, using the tips and tricks he’d learned at the academy. Technically, he had a different work laptop, one issued by the government, but he’d spoofed it’s IP for whenever he logged on to do official business. This was...more secure than that. It allowed him to access everything he needed off-book in case he came across something he needed to bury. He thinks he should feel guilty for this, but he doesn’t. He never has. It’s one of the many things he thinks he should hate himself a little for, one of the reasons he and Scott never fully recovered their friendship after the entire Donovan situation. Because nothing is too far when it comes to protecting the people he loves. Derek understood that side of him, it’s why they’d gotten along so well, even after everything. The others...well, some of them got it, some of them didn’t. But none of them had ever understood quite like Derek.

Stiles was practical, that was all. He wasn’t malicious or psychotic, just very, very practical. He draws on that now, as he logs in under the ghost account, burying his tracks as he starts digging through the internet. Research calms him, helps him make sense of the nonsensical world he’s been living in since he was a teen. So he does some, because he said he’d think about what this all means, and to do that, he needs to understand what it is that’s happening.

He’ll start with google - well and truly hidden from their tracking far beyond what their bullshit incognito claims actually cover - and from there he’ll branch out. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, not really. It’s well beyond results like bestiality porn - that was apparent. There was affection there, trust, something a lot more involved than just sex. He gets the terms he needs from his first searches, starts using them to dig through forums, deeper and deeper into the web, trying to understand. Zoophile….zoophilia….furries (no, no, scrap that one, not the same, not really...well, sometimes according to searches, but mostly no)....and deeper he goes. He cross-references them, plugs in all the terms to the databases he’s accessed from the back end, combing through files and charges and legalese. Not illegal...somewhat illegal....very illegal...cases and challenges. There’s so much more to this than he’d ever thought.

His head is swimming just from the snips and snatches of everything he’s read - proponents for it, violent opponents to it, arrests and releases and convictions and thrown out cases. When his stomach finally gives a violent rumble, his eyes are dry and gritty. It’s well past lunch when he glances at the time, so he puts the laptop into a controlled rest and unfolds himself from where he’d curled around it as he read. He makes a sandwich and has some water. Refills his glass, takes it back to bed. Stares at the laptop for another hour before his body drags him back into sleep, eyes throbbing from his renewed headache.

When Stiles wakes again, it’s dark, the laptop screen a sudden brightness when he jostles it as he sits up. He thinks about doing more research, but he’s worn down, his brain still processing the things he’d learned today. He closes it out, finally picks up his phone. There are only two message threads unread. One from Derek that just says ‘okay, thanks’ from the night he’d made it home. The other is from his dad…

_‘How’d the move go?’_

_‘Son, did you two make it okay?’_

_‘I’m going to use my sheriff skills to assume you did and that you’re busy (since I checked and there’ve been no accidents along your route). Which is more than I really wanted to think about you two. Have fun. Be safe. Call me when you emerge from the newly moved in phase, I want to have a family dinner.’_

Stiles stares at the messages, stomach twisting. He forgot he’d have to tell people that the move didn’t happen. And why. Except he can’t. He can’t tell them this. Can’t imagine walking up to his dad and saying “well, you see, Derek couldn’t move in because it turns out he’s in a loving, committed relationship with his dog, and he wasn’t willing to leave the dog for me.” Or, he can picture it, and the picture it paints is fucking awful. But he also can’t ignore the messages. His brain whirs and whirs and his fingers move without him making a conscious decision to type anything at all, ‘ _work stuff came up, had to postpone :(_ ‘ and that’s that. It’s sent and he gets back a ‘ _sorry kid_ ’. 

“Me too,” his voice is croaky from disuse, but the words are a whisper anyhow. Stiles clears his throat a few times and then sets the phone back down, goes and has dinner, falls asleep on his sofa to the sounds of some nature documentary he’d put on just to combat the awful quiet of his mostly empty house.

***

Stiles wakes at a reasonable hour the next morning, doesn't feel like the world is crumbling down on him quite so much. He finally has the energy, so he unpacks his overnight bag, brushes his teeth and showers. He feels more human, more himself after. He has coffee and breakfast and then goes back to his laptop, dragging it out into his living room. It only takes him a short while to sort out where he'd left off. He exhausts the legal side of things, still not entirely clear because the laws are muddy at best. That's not really what he's most concerned with anyhow, not at the moment. Instead he delves further and further into forums and discussions. 

He's slipping into the dark web with ease, though it's not really his first time doing this. It's just usually for far different reasons. He discovers a side of the internet that...well, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't aware it existed, he's not stupid after all, but it's nowhere he's ever ventured on purpose. There’s a lot of porn, but he starts with the more deeply hidden forums, remembering the keywords that looked the most promising. He’s shocked when he comes across community after community of people who profess to not just love their animals, but to be _in love_ with them. So much so that they’re in committed relationships and don’t consider them pets. Before Derek had brought it up to him, he’d never heard of that, never come across it.

Stiles loses hours on the forums, reading story after story about how people found their lovers, partners, mates. How they maintain their relationships. How it all works. The sun is slanting sideways through the blinds before he realizes he’s gone most of the day without eating, again. His mind is whirling as he fixes himself a sandwich, thoughts pinging around. Before he knows what he’s even doing, his phone is pressed to his ear, ringing coming through the line.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice is cautious, but Stiles dives right in.

“How do dates work? Do you even have dates?” There’s no malice, no mockery, just open curiosity in his tone. It must be clear to Derek that he genuinely wants to know, because Derek clears his throat and then answers.

“We have them. It’s...harder. I can’t exactly explain this to anyone. We go on runs, we go to the park. Sometimes we have picnics. There’s a restaurant that allows dogs on the patio, so sometimes we’ll go there. We still have to be careful, but it’s nice to do that. We have a lot of home dates too - days where I’ll cook and we’ll watch a movie. It’s a lot easier on us both then.”

“Huh. Okay. The, uh, the kissing thing - is that...do you do that a lot?” Stiles is hesitant now, his brain having cleared out one question and deciding to switch tracks, replaying Derek’s words from the other night.

“Um, yeah, yes. We - every day. It’s like a normal relationship that way. We’re both very affectionate when we’re with someone we love.”

Stiles feels a pang at the words, like something sharp stabbing at his chest, and his hand is unconsciously rubbing his sternum. He knows, is the thing. Because he's someone Derek loves. It was a pleasant discovery, a mark of how far Derek had come in his own recovery that he could be so openly affectionate. And it hurts, somewhere deep, that it doesn't belong only to Stiles. That the love he'd thought was reserved for him was being split. It makes his throat tight and he decides that he isn't ready for more, not tonight.

“I, uh, thanks. For answering. The phone and my questions.”

“Anytime - I don't want to hide anything from you.” Stiles bites back a sarcastic retort because Derek is being sincere, and Stiles might be hurting, but he's smart enough to understand why Derek had trouble telling him this. It's so much more than he'd realized.

“Okay, I'm gonna go now. I'll call, if I have more questions.”

“Good, that's, yeah, do that.”

“ 'Kay, bye.” He hangs up before he can revert to being a tween and not wanting to hang up first. The stabbing ache is still there in his chest so he rubs at it some more, his free hand scrubbing down his face. He's lost his appetite, but he forces himself to pick up his forgotten sandwich anyhow, manages to get his body to go through the motions: bite, chew, swallow. It's the only thing his long-gone ADHD was good for really, learning to eat when he had no appetite at all.

Stiles washes his plate when he's finished, dries it, puts it away, all the while sneaking glances at his laptop. He thinks he should take a break, give himself the night to process what he'd read and what Derek had said, but his curiosity has always been the itch that never quite gets satisfactorily scratched. Instead of shutting it down, he grabs a beer from the fridge and moves back to his bedroom, settling halfway under the covers before popping the cap and having a swig.

He dives back into the forums, digging deeper, looking for more information, but it isn't long before every click begins to redirect him to a login page. He doesn't debate with himself for very long before he's making a throwaway email and signing up for the site. He's told the login also grants him access to other places, but he only half pays attention, going back to read up on how these people knew that their pet wasn't really just a pet to them. If it wasn't for the fact that they were discussing animals, it would all seem so normal. Slow romances and shy kisses and dates - though, like Derek had said, dates outside of their homes seemed to be difficult and not as fulfilling as they'd like. He reads and he drinks and it's not a lot, but after awhile there are three empty beer bottles on his nightstand and he's feeling looser.

There's a link on one of the posts and when he clicks it, he gets another redirect, this time telling him he'll need to be a premium member to access. That is...trickier. It's a lot harder to bury credit card transactions. He's about to give it up and move on when he sees another option. A way to pay that he can bury with far more ease. He's a little buzzed so it isn't hard to shrug his shoulders and do it, following the instructions on how to buy and hide the currency, how to use it to pay. When he's done, he pays better attention to what the site tells him he now has access to. It's not just all of the content on the forums, but several other sites as well, and he can guess by the names what they might hold. He leaves that tab open, goes back to the one he'd been on before, clicking the link again. When the video pops up, his eyes widen and he drops his laptop back onto the bedding, heads back to the kitchen for one more beer.

By the time he returns to his room, the video has ended, though there's a reply button over the greyed out endshot. He takes a sip of his beer and stares at his screen. He's not drunk, not even close, is barely buzzed if he's really honest with himself. But his curiosity wins. He climbs back into bed, the bottle of beer getting set on his nightstand. He drags the laptop back onto his thighs. He only hesitates a second more before he's unmuting his speakers and tapping the video again. The caption explains that it's a video of the guy whose posts he'd been reading and the guy's boyfriend. A dog. Stiles thinks it might be a shepherd but he's not sure. 

The scene opens on the two of them on a sofa, the camera clearly on some kind of mount. They're...making out, is really the only way he could describe it. There's obviously no finesse, it's not like the dog can control it's tongue, but the guy is enthusiastic. He lets the dog lick at his face before opening his mouth, moans as the dog's tongue sweeps inside. He can see the guy's tongue making darting licks back, see the way the guy will gently suck on the dog's tongue. He feels weird, watching this. He can't decide if it's good-weird or bad-weird, but he doesn't turn the video off. Soon enough he can see the dog is getting excited, the guy too, if the way he's writhing is any indication. 

Stiles shouldn't be surprised when the guy pulls away, face shiny with dog saliva, flushed in excitement. He watches the guy strip off his shirt and shimmy out of his sweats, leaving himself bare. Stiles tries to ignore the flash of warmth he gets at the sight. The dog is panting but obediently waiting on the sofa, tip of its tapered cock just barely poking out of its sheath. Stiles is caught off guard when the guy drops to his knees and leans between the dog's legs, wrapping his mouth around the tip. The moans and slurps are unmistakable, as is the way the dog seems to spread itself more open, panting harder as it leans back into the cushions. He almost misses the snick of a lube bottle being opened. His focus shifts to where the guy is deftly working himself open on his own fingers his cock dripping onto the floor while he sucks off his dog. Stiles doesn't even realize he's palming himself until the guy pulls off the dog's cock and speaks.

“You're so good to me Bruno, so patient.” He's shifting around now, draping his torso over a couch cushion. “I'm ready baby, ready for you. Come on baby, make love to me.” Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up but he doesn't stop touching himself. Bruno hops off the sofa and behind the guy, and Stiles draws his own cock out of his sweats. His heart is thrumming and his own breathing is getting ragged as he strokes himself. The guy on-screen moans again when Bruno's nose presses between his cheeks, reaches back to spread himself open. His hole is glistening in the lights, lube leaking out of it and Stiles squeezes himself when the dog's big tongue swipes at it. His own hold clenches in time to the one in the video and he wonders what it feels like. How different it is from a human's. He's had a dog lick his face before, knows their tongues are rougher, and he tries to imagine what that would feel like against the sensitive skin of his ass. 

Before he can get lost in that, there's another moan from the screen and he goes back to watching. His hand is loose on his cock as he strokes it, almost an afterthought as he watches Bruno lap at the guy's ass. It sounds obscene, the large tongue making smacking noises as Bruno tastes the guy. The way the guy shudders and shakes, his cock leaking even more copiously now.

“Come on baby, mount me. Breed me, I know you want to.” The guy's voice is breathy and the dog gives him one more lick before hopping on his back. Bruno's hips are hunching as he humps, seeking the guy's hole, and it doesn't take long before he's releasing a cheek and helping guide the dog's cock inside of him. Stiles gasps at almost the same time as the man on-screen. His own strokes speed up as the dog humps furiously, his furry balls slapping against the backs of the guy's thighs. Stiles can hear the squelch of lube even above the panting coming from the speakers, and as the knot forms, he can hear the way it pops in and out. It doesn't take long at all for Bruno to give one more hard thrust before he's locked inside.

“Oh fuck baby, yes. That's it. Fill me up. Feels so good. So hot baby. Your come is so hot.” Stiles can see the flash of the guy's elbow as he jerks himself off, hear the splatter of his come as he spills all over the floor and the front of his sofa. He watches as the dog starts shifting and moving, hears the whimpers of the guy as the dog finally makes the turn and puts them ass to ass. It's only another few minutes before the dog is tugging, his knot pulling against the guy's rim. When it pops free, it's followed by a rush of wet, the dog's come thinner than a human's, more watery. Bruno takes a few steps away before sitting down and lapping at his own cock, cleaning it up as it starts to shrink. The guy spends another minute panting, his ass open and leaking, before he turns and crawls to where the dog is. 

Stiles isn't surprised when the guy begins licking at the dog's cock, helping clean it up. He is surprised, though, when he keeps moving his face down. He watches, fascinated, as the guy suckles at the dog's furry balls, taking first one and then the other into his mouth. He's even more surprised when he doesn't stop there, nose shifting behind them until he can only be at the dog's ass. Stiles can see the flash of his tongue and not much else, right up until the dog stands. He thinks now that really is the end, but the dog merely turns, lifting its tail. The angle is a lot better now, and the hand on his cock speeds up as he watches the guy shift to all fours and tilt his head until his mouth is on the dog's furred pucker. The moans are back, the dog panting happily, tail wagging where it's held high, as the guy licks and slurps at the dog's hole. When the guy's tongue finally gets where it's going, pushes inside the together ring of muscle, Stiles’ balls draw up and then he's shooting his own load all over his shirt and the screen of his laptop. He comes so hard he thinks he might've blacked out for a bit, because the video is over, the replay button back up, when he can finally catch his breath. 

He's a mess, and the second his brain is fully back online, he flushes with shame. He just got off to watching a dog fuck a man. _No_ , he thinks, _he got off watching the man eat out his dog_. He quickly exits out of everything, shutting the laptop off and sliding it under the bed. His belly is still churning with guilt as he showers. When he gets back into his room, cleaned and in fresh pajamas, he sees the discarded beer, thinks about finishing it. Instead, he grabs it and the empties and takes them to the trash. He wishes he could blame this all on the alcohol, but he doesn't even feel the slight buzz he'd had earlier. Instead, he crawls beneath his covers, tells himself he'll have plenty of time to feel more guilty on the morning, and promptly passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come prompt me on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/dirtyknots).  
> All of my additional contact information can be found on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile)!


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles ignores his laptop for two days after. Every time he catches a glimpse of it, the feelings of guilt well up inside of him. He feels like the shittiest of people. He isn't sure how to get over it, to move past it. He doesn't really know where to go from here. Not until he has to run out for groceries. His time off is nearly over, and he'd wait to shop but he has no more food in the house because he'd planned to shop with Derek once he was settled. He ignores the pang at that thought, like he's ignoring everything else. 

He walks, because the weather is good and he hasn't been outside since he got back home, alone (another pang, another denial of it). He's running over a mental checklist of what he needs when there's a shout from nearby and then something barrels into him, knocking him over. There's more frantic noises as someone yells, he thinks he catches the word 'friendly’ but he's distracted by the wriggling ball of fur crawling all over him. The dog is clearly a pup, it's body vibrating with excitement as it uses him like its own playmat, trampling on him and licking at his face. When its tongue slips into his mouth on accident, he nearly freezes, mind flashing back to the video and cock stirring in his jeans. He has enough presence of mind to squirm free, regaining his feet just as the own comes running up, breathless from clearly having chased the dog here. There's a leash in the woman's hand, dog collar clearly still attached to it.

“Sorry, sorry, slipped his collar.” Her words come out between harsh pants and she's halfway doubled over clutching her side. Stiles hooks his fingers in the dog's scruff as it dances around him, hanging onto it.

“It's fine, no harm done.” He sounds so much more collected than he feels, chalks it up to his training. “I've got him if you want to put the collar and leash back on?”

“Yes, thanks. Thank you.” She crouches and manages to get them on, dodging the dog's eager tongue as he tries to lick her face. When she stands back up, Stiles moves back a step. “Again, really sorry about this…” She trails off, a smile curling her lips, her stance adjusting as she takes her eyes over him. He feels uncomfortable all of a sudden, and it has nothing to do with how he reacted to having her dog on top of him.

“It's fine, really. Have a good day.” He turns to go, ignoring the noise she makes as she tries to come up with a reason to get him to stay, waving over his shoulder as he speedwalks back around the corner to his house. He still needs groceries, but he figures that's what delivery service is for. He's barely got the door locked behind him before he's kicking off his shoes and making a beeline for his room. He strips down as he moves to his bed, retrieving the laptop from beneath it and grabbing the lube from his nightstand. 

The guilt tries to flare up as he logs into everything, opening one brief, trackable tab to quickly order grocery delivery for later in the afternoon. Once he's done with that, he settles into the middle of his bed, propped against his pillows, the lube next to his bare thigh. He opens the new email he'd made, reads over the additional sites he had been granted access to with his premium account, and then follows a link. It's not hard, after that, to find what he's after. He ignores his hardening cock as he watches video after video of men being mounted by their canine lovers. 

He didn't realize there were so many men who were in love with their dogs. Yes, there's a lot of porn, but there are almost as many videos that could be considered PG, if they were two men instead of man and dog. Plenty of videos just of men making out with their lovers. It isn't long before he finds the same guy from before, another caption about intimate times with his boyfriend. He clicks it, body humming in anticipation. The guy is already naked when this one starts, the dog's ass facing the camera as the guy practically makes out with it, only taking brief breaks to catch his breath and praise Bruno for being so amazing. 

Stiles’ cock starts leaking less than a minute in, but he doesn't start stroking it until the guy lubes up his own fingers. He's expecting more of the same from before, but catches his own gasp when the guy inserts the finger into Bruno's ass instead, licking around it. Stiles can see the dog's cock begin to poke free of its sheath as it happens, his eyes going wider when Bruno drops his forelegs down a bit, presenting. He uncaps his own lube after balancing his laptop on a pillow near his head, scooting down until his feet are braced and he can reach below his own balls, circle his pucker with wet fingers. He doesn't breach himself until the guy has gotten up on his knees, slicking his cock and lining up to Bruno's hole. Stiles strokes down on his own cock as he slides a finger inside of himself in time to the slow and steady push on the video. 

He matches pace the entire time, adding more fingers as he loosens up, watches as the guy reaches around to carefully clasp the dog's knot when it is finally free of the sheath, squeezing it in time to his thrusts. He comes at the same time the dog does. The guy in the video coming only moments later. Stiles is spent, but he doesn't shut the video off, watching instead as the guy leans down and begins lapping at Bruno's now-leaking hole, cleaning his lover up. The video doesn't cut off until Bruno has turned back around, licking his way into the guy's mouth, strings of sticky come and saliva connecting them.

Stiles expects the guilt to come flooding back, but it doesn't. He doesn't know why - surely this should be worse to his brain than watching the guy get mounted. Instead, his thoughts wander to Derek. He wonders if this is what he and Roman are like. He knows they kiss, that they fuck even. But he wonders, for the first time really, if it's as intimate. If Derek works Roman up, if he sucks his cock and eats his hole. If he's fucked Roman the way that the guy - Stiles squints at the screen to see the username: _brunosmate_ , fitting - he wonders if it's the same for Derek and Roman. If Derek thinks of them as mates the same way he'd whispered to Stiles that he thought they might be. Can someone have two mates?

He's drawn out of his thoughts by the doorbell. He'd forgotten about the grocery delivery. Forgotten about everything except the videos and Derek and Roman. He throws on his pajamas, not wanting to hunt for where he'd kicked off his jeans, grabs a shirt to cover the mess of his belly. He only feels a little awkward when he accepts the signature pad, remembering where his fingers had just been, but then he's passing it back and picking up the bags from his porch. He puts the groceries away and goes back to his room, gaze sitting on the ended video, flickering over to his cellphone. 

“Hi.” Derek sounds a little out of breath and Stiles’ spent cock twitches as he eyes the laptop, still open to the video.

“Hi, uh...are you busy?” 

“No. Not if you want to talk.” Derek's tone is a little hesitant and Stiles feels that pang again.

“Okay. I, um, I've been researching.” Derek makes an agreeing noise over the line, and Stiles smiles softly, because he knows Derek knew he would. “It seems like, maybe this isn't as uncommon as I'd thought.” Derek hums and Stiles picks at a thread on his comforter as he settles back onto his bed, fingers skating over to click on the profile link for brunosmate. The sheer volume of uploads on the guy's page makes his eyes widen and his heart speed up a little.

“Stiles, everything okay?” Stiles had forgotten that his heartbeat was loud enough for a werewolf to hear, even over the phone.

“Yeah, everything's fine.” He knows his heart doesn't stutter, and Derek just gives him a soft 'okay’ and waits, letting Stiles work up to whatever he wants to say or ask. The trouble is, he doesn't know himself. His fingers seem to work without his brain, scrolling through the videos as he tries to gather his thoughts, the only sounds his and Derek's breathing. He has the presence of mind to drop the volume on his laptop down drastically before he clicks to open a video - the still showing Bruno's ass facing the camera, the guy's face next to it, the video buffering.

“Tell me about...is...do you…” Stiles can't seem to make himself voice the questions he has, biting his lip and taking another steadying breath. “Is Roman your mate?” The words come out on a rush and Stiles’ heart is pounding as he waits for the answer.

“No.” Stiles let's out the breath he was holding at Derek's firm answer, his gaze flickering back to his laptop as movement begins. The video finished buffering and Derek is speaking, voice warm in his ear while Stiles watches as brunosmate starts eating out his canine lovers again. “You're my mate. And I love you so much. There's only one of those, but that doesn't mean we can't feel love for others. I've, we've, been together a long time. It wouldn't feel right to cut him out, even after finding you. I know it's a lot. I wish it was different...no, I'm sorry, that's a lie. I love what I have with Roman. He was there when I needed him. I just...Stiles?”

Derek's voice trails off and Stiles realizes his breath is hitching. He's not crying though, not like Derek probably thinks. He'd been listening, trying to figure out how to ask his other questions, but he'd also been unconsciously stroking himself, eyes locked onto the way the man's tongue is breaching that furry hole over and over. Stiles doesn't know how to explain to Derek what he's feeling, isn't even sure yet how he feels himself, so he does the only thing he can think of. His clean hand moves to the volume button on the laptop, unmuting it, his other hand still stroking himself. It takes another 30 seconds before Derek speaks.

“Stiles...are you watching…” Derek's voice trails off, hints of disbelief. Stiles still can't speak. “It sounds...tell me what you're watching.” Derek's tone has dipped low, heated, and it makes Stiles’ body flush, even as his tongue unsticks itself from the roof of his mouth.

“I didn't know people did this. He loves it. They both do.”

“Love what?”

“He's eating out Bruno. He's got so many videos Der, of them making out, of Bruno mounting him. But these…” Stiles’ words come out on pants, his hand tightening around his cock as he strokes.

“You like it? You like watching him do that?” Derek's words are a purr, and Stiles thinks he can make out slick sounds coming down the line. It encourages him.

“Yes. I...yes.” 

“Are you thinking about me, about Roman? Are you wondering if we've ever done it that way?”

“Yessss.” The word comes out on a hiss, his balls tightening at the thought.

“What if I said we have? That we do it every way?”

“Fuck.” Stiles’ voice is strangled as he shoots over his belly, his hand milking him through. “Can I-”

“Watch?” Derek interrupts him. “Just say when.” Derek groans down the line and Stiles has spent enough time in bed with him to know that he's just come too. His own cock is finally spent, and he drops his hand away, breath slowing as he comes down from the high of his release. He wipes it on the bedspread and clicks the video off, listening to Derek's harsh breaths as he rides out his orgasm.

“Can I come see you. Tomorrow? Not just...I have questions. And I think it would be better. Face to face.” He waits for Derek to catch his breath.

“Of course, you can come here anytime. I'll answer every question you have.” The sincerity in Derek's voice makes Stiles’ eyes burn a little, and he swallows hard.

“Okay, I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. I love you.” Stiles wants to say it back so badly, but he's still not ready to go there again, so he hangs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come prompt me on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/dirtyknots).  
> All of my additional contact information can be found on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile)!


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles is beyond nervous when he makes the drive to Derek's the next day. He nearly turns around several times, convinced he's making a mistake. Somehow he manages to get there, parks in the guest spot Derek had texted him about, and grabs his laptop bag off the passenger seat before making his way to the elevator and up to Derek's floor. He's sure Derek can hear his heartbeat thudding away, but even so, he almost doesn't make it off the elevator. The doors slide shut at least five times on him before he can take enough deep breaths to step into the hall. It's a little easier, after that, to get to Derek's door, but then he's hesitating again. Sure, he'd gotten off to a stranger and their dog, but it's not the same as Derek and his dog. Not at all. He isn't sure how long he stands in the hall for, knows that Derek must be dying on the other side of the door despite the fact that he hasn't opened it and forced the issue.

He takes a few centering breaths and knocks. There's no sound of movement from within the apartment, but the door swings open less than a minute later. Stiles appreciates that Derek gave him those extra few seconds, although he probably needed them as well, if the look of hesitant relief he's sporting is any indication. Derek looks soft, freshly showered and in low hanging sweats with a worn t-shirt on. He steps to the side and Stiles slips past him, letting his shoulder brush along Derek's torso, no longer willing to withhold contact. He can hear the shuddered relief in Derek's exhalation. The door clicks closed behind him, the lock snicking into place as Stiles moves to the living room. Roman is sprawled on one sofa, head halfway off, tongue lolling out, and Stiles feels a flash of warmth as re recalls other dogs' tongues and where he'd seen them recently. He's sure it isn't missed. Not by Derek, whose senses are so attuned to him, but not by Roman either, whose head lifts up just a fraction, nostrils flaring as he scents the air.

Settles settles onto the second sofa, gently putting his laptop on the coffee table. Derek hesitates but eventually moves to the sofa Roman is on, the dog lifting and scooting enough so that he can sit, dropping his head into Derek's lap once he's done shifting around. Derek scritches behind the dog's ears and waits.

"Um. I...thought I had all this planned but…" Stiles trails off and Derek waits patiently. "It's not just a sex thing. For you." It's not exactly a question, but Derek answers anyhow.

"No, it's not. We have sex, it's important to us. But we also cuddle and spend time together. We have dates as much as we can have them. We're there for each other." Stiles nods along because they'd covered this, he just needed to hear it again. Before he can think of another question, Roman is moving again, sitting up and leaning against Derek, tongue sweeping out and brushing over his mouth. Derek's eyes widen and he twists away a bit, eyebrows starting to twitch into a frown as he goes to tell Roman no, or at least that's what Stiles assumes is about to happen. But he doesn't want that. If he's going to do this, he has to be okay with Derek and Roman behaving how they always have.

"Let him."

"What?" Derek's face turns back towards him, eyebrows arched.

"It's...this is normal for you right?" At Derek's nod, Stiles continues, "so...let him. Or let yourself. It's...I want to be okay with this, but we won't know if I am until...I'll have to see eventually." Derek's body...softens. it's the only adjective Stiles can think of. Like a weight has been lifted at the words that Stiles wants to be okay with it. That he's going to try to understand in reality, not just in theory.

Derek turns so his back is against the arm of the sofa, right leg shifting along the back of it and making space between his thighs for Roman to scoot himself closer. His palms cup the sides of Roman's muzzle, stroking the soft fur as the dog shifts his head closer, rough tongue coming out to sweep over Derek's lips. He allows it a few times before opening his own mouth. It's not like kissing Stiles, it's sloppier, Roman's drool coating his face as the dog's tongue roves through his mouth, his own spit mingling as it slides free as well. Derek gets lost in it, fingers still stroking through fur, legs spreading even wider as his cock starts to harden, until he hears the faint gasp from across the small room. He draws back, tipping his head so Roman can lick at his throat a moment. Derek expects to see apprehension, maybe even disgust, but instead he finds Stiles wide-eyed, pupils slowly eating away at the money of his eyes. A quick glance down shows a bulge growing behind his pants. There's still the faint tinges of shame on the air though.

"It's okay, that you like this." Stiles startles a little, a flush creeping over his face. "I'm glad that you like it, that you're getting turned on. So are we." Derek punctuates his words by turning back into the sloppy kiss, his left hand trailing down Roman's flank and encouraging the dog to shift how he's sitting so his cock is on display. Derek doesn't have to see it to know that it's already poking free of the sheath, red tapered tip leaking slowly, veiny cock glistening in the apartment's lighting. He smells another spike of arousal from across the room, less shame in it this time, and allows his fingers to trail over Roman's cock, playing with the spongy tip. When he glances back over, he can see Stiles cupping himself through his pants, and his eyes flicking briefly to the closed laptop, remembering their conversation the night before. He keeps up the kissing for another minute before he draws back, softly praising Roman even as he scoots off the sofa, stripping his shirt off.

"Roman, show me." It's an oft used request, one that came about when everything with Roman was still new, but the dog knows what it means by now. Derek is nervous at Stiles watching, but he thinks he's making the right choice if the soft noises coming from behind him are any indication. Roman stands and turns, large paws draping over the back of the sofa, his tail turned towards Derek - and Stiles. Derek shifts to the side a bit, trying to keep the view unimpeded, and uses his right hand to brush Roman's tail out of the way. He doesn't look back, afraid he wouldn't be able to go through with it if he had to see Stiles' expression. 

Derek tilts his head, trying to keep his face from blocking the view as much as possible, and sweeps his tongue over Roman's tightly furred pucker. He can't stop the excited groan he lets out at the familiar musky taste of his lover's hole. It spurs him on enough to almost forget they're being watched, his tongue laving over Roman's hole, lapping at it, making it shine with his spit. He uses his monumental control over his own shift to delicately expand his tongue, letting it curl and twist and start to breach Roman's ass. He lets go of Roman's tail, feeling it drop down sideways over his shoulder and uses his now free hand to slide between the dog and the sofa, slicking his hand with Roman's pre before curling it I to a loose fist, giving him something to rut into.

Derek's tongue fucks in and out of Roman's hole, providing enough stimulation along with his hand to have Roman's knot forming, popping through the ring of his fingers a few times before it swells completely and Derek tightens his grip, letting Roman tug against it as if he was tied. The sofa is going to be a mess but he doesn't care, not with how close he is himself, his tongue driving into Roman's ass even deeper now that it's relaxed. He's almost completely forgotten his audience until Stiles drops down into his lap. It startles him enough that he stops, starts to turn his head away.

"Don't stop, oh fuck Der don't stop." Stiles is hot against him, body wrapping around his, and he realizes Stiles got himself naked at some point, his dripping cock rubbing against Derek's bare abs, ass grinding over Derek's sweatpants covered erection. Derek slides his tongue back inside of Roman and feels Stiles' cheek pressing against his, feels the hot wash of his breath as he pants while he ruts against Derek's stomach, watching Derek eat out Roman up close and personal. His own eyes are closed and he almost thinks he's hallucinating when he feels a drooling wetness slide over his lips, tracing the length of his tongue.

Derek cracks his eye open, everything blurry for being so close, but there's still no mistaking the pink dart of a tongue against his, or the way it's still moving down. When Stiles' tongue pushes against his own, sliding against Roman's furred pucker before dipping inside to twine against his, Derek lets out a whine and comes in his sweats. Stiles doesn't stop writhing on top of him, his face pushing against Derek's until Derek shifts enough to let him take over, watching in awe as Stiles groans and pushes his tongue deeper inside of Roman, lips brushing against the pucker in an approximation of a filthy kiss. Derek barely manages to reach between them with his free hand and cup Stiles' cock before his back arches, mouth still pressed tight to the dog's ass, and he comes. 

Derek expects Stiles to pull away when he finishes, to suddenly realize what he's doing and remember that he wasn't ever sure he could handle Derek doing this, let alone do it himself, but Stiles surprises him. Instead of pulling away, he pushes forward, face pressing harder against Roman as his tongue works inside of his ass, lips moving over fur and rough skin, little whimpers escaping around them. His cock doesn't flag at all, even when he stops coming, and Derek thinks Stiles might stay like that all night. Roman is the one to pull away, once his knot deflates.

Roman barely shifts before Stiles is releasing him, hands somehow locked in his fur without either he or Derek noticing. Derek's hand is a mess but Roman laps at it before turning his attention to Stiles, who's still sitting in Derek's lap, cock still flushed and drooling, even as it softens. It matches the sweaty redness of his face, hair stuck down to his forehead. When Roman tentatively licks at his cheeks and lips, Stiles just opens his mouth, lets Roman taste him thoroughly, his own tongue tentatively sliding along Roman's. Stiles doesn't pull back until Roman does, the dog hopping off the couch and heading to the kitchen, likely for food and water. Stiles still isn't looking at Derek, but he hasn't slid off his lap yet, hasn't brushed away Derek's hands where his thumbs are sweeping gently over Stiles' hips.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Derek's voice is rough, but he makes it as soft as he can, glad when that makes Stiles finally look at him.

"Do we have to?" Stiles sounds small and unsure, his scent starting to stain with nerves.

"Not tonight, not if you don't want to."

"Okay."

"Just...one thing though." Worry laces through the room, but Derek keeps touching Stiles, keeps looking at him with a calm assuredness. "Thank you."

"For what?" There's a little incredulity in his tone.

"For...trying, being willing to try. To accept me, us." Stiles' brows go up.

"I just ate out your dog, I'm pretty sure this," his voice stutters over the words, hands waving around a bit, indicating the room and everything that happened, "is a little more than being willing to try." 

"Fair enough," Derek can't help the warm chuckle that inspires, and then his hands are gliding up, cupping Stiles' cheeks and drawing him into a kiss. It tastes like slobber and ass and Stiles and himself and for the first time since he brought Stiles here weeks ago, Derek finally feels right. More right when Stiles moans into it, sucking on Derek's tongue and grinding down in his lap. The click of claws on the floor doesn't go noticed by either of them, especially not when hot dog breath washes over their faces, a rough tongue trying to wriggle in to join theirs.

"Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?" Even for all that just happened, Derek feels hesitant in his suggestion. Stiles looks between Derek and Roman and swallows hard, a blush blooming on his cheeks before he nods.

"That's...yeah, okay." 

"We don't have to do anything else tonight, this was already more than I ever even hoped. Okay?" Derek can feel Stiles' hesitance and tries to reassure him. Knows it was right when Stiles loses some of the tension he gained at Derek's suggestion. Derek stands carefully, lifting Stiles with him and hiding a smile in his neck at the brief spike of arousal that elicits. Roman follows dutifully as Derek moves them to the bedroom, bending to set Stiles down on the bed before heading to the master bath for washcloths. He cleans them both up gently, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles' lips.

"Wanna get ready for bed?" Stiles debates for a moment but ultimately shakes his head no, sliding further up the bed and tugging the covers down to slip beneath them. Derek moves around to climb in behind him, pulling Stiles against his chest, reveling in having him back in his arms. Stiles tucks his head beneath Derek's chin, arm wrapping around him and leg flopping over Derek's thighs. The bed dips as Roman climbs on, settling against Derek's other side, head resting over his abs, nose brushing Stiles' arm. Derek feels content in a way he hasn't in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come prompt me on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/dirtyknots).  
> All of my additional contact information can be found on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile)!


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles shifts, half awake, at the feeling of cold wetness brushing his cheeks. The blankets had been kicked off of them sometime in the night - unsurprising given the double added heat of Derek and Roman. The cold is replaced with a vaguely familiar hot, rough tongue. Considering Derek is a warm weight against his side, Stiles is fairly sure who the tongue belongs to. He's still warm and sleepy, inhibitions non-existent, so it's easy as breathing to spread his legs wider, reach back and peel his cheeks apart, exposing his hole to that probing tongue. He doesn't try to stifle the gasps and moans as he's licked, dog drool sliding down his cleft and over his balls. 

"Fuck, Stiles, are you letting Roman eat you out?" Derek's voice is husky, sleep roughened.

"Mmhmm." Words are still too much, but he's rocking back into the pressure of Roman's tongue, head turned towards Derek's face in the early morning light.

"Love you so much." Derek's eyes are filled with adoration and he presses a kiss to the corner of Stiles' mouth before sliding down his body, hands moving to help hold Stiles open. Stiles feels Derek's tongue join Roman's, knows he must have shifted his tongue again to get it so close. It's as amazing as he thought it would be when he had watched them the night before, Derek's pointed thrusts breaching his hole while Roman keeps lapping, making everything sloppy wet. Stiles just moans and arches when he feels a finger pressing against his rim, feels his body opening to accept it.

"Will you let him?" Derek's voice is dark, barely audible over the slurping of Roman's tongue.

"What?"

"Will you Stiles? Wanna see him fuck you, wanna see you hanging off his knot. Wanna see him fill you up, wanna watch his come leak out of you, wanna taste him inside you. Fuck you when you're still drenched." Derek's breath is a hot wash over his hole as he speaks and Stiles can feel the shifting of the bed as Derek ruts against it, and he can't help but want it too. 

"Yes, anything. Anything you want." The words are barely out before the bed shifts abruptly as Derek jumps off it. Stiles doesn't even have time to turn and look before there's the slide of a drawer and Derek is back, the snick of the lube cap loud before Stiles' hips are yanked up, Derek holding him steady while he gets his knees underneath himself. He's already so wet from their tongues, but Derek adds plenty of lube as he fingers Stiles open, makes sure he's stretched and ready, Roman's tongue still gliding over him, the top barely edging in as Derek scissors his fingers. He works Stiles up until he's writhing back on four fingers, leaving Stiles feeling momentarily empty when he drags them free.

"Shhh, I know, don't worry. Roman's gonna fill you up baby. We'll give you what you need." Stiles can feel Derek shifting to the side, hand trailing over his hip as Roman scoots behind him. He's big enough that he doesn't so much as jump on to Stiles' back as just kind of, step over him. Stiles thinks that might be Derek helping too. The brush of fur over his naked skin makes him shiver, the sensations new and strange. And arousing. So very arousing. He's more awake now, brain whirring as it catalogues how very different this is from being fucked by another person. Roman is hot, his fur softer than expected. Stiles can feel drips of drool falling over his back, can feel the wet poking of Roman's pointed cock as it hits his thighs, the hunching of the dog's back as he starts to hump the air.

A hand slides up Stiles' thigh, and he knows Derek is moving to help Roman, thanks to last night he can picture the way Derek's big palm will wrap around Roman's cock, help angle it towards his stretched out hole. Stiles moans loud and long when Roman breaches him, cock driving in hard. It's so much longer than he realized, lighting him up from within. It feels wetter than he's used to, the sounds of their fucking squelching and echoing. 

"How's it feel baby?"

"Go-good. So good Der. Fuck, he's so big, so wet." Stiles nearly keens the words, rocking back to meet Roman's thrusts.

"You look so good like this, split open around his doggy dick. Your hole looks so pretty dragging over his cock. Can't wait to see him tie you."

"Fuck yes, want it. Want his knot. Want him to tie me like his bitch." Stiles' cock is leaking but he doesn't reach for it, too lost in the feel of Roman slamming in and out of him. He can hear the slapping of Derek jerking off while he watches, knows his hand must be flying over his own cock. He wonders how well Derek can see, if he can tell that Roman's knot is starting to swell already. The wondering ends when he feels Derek's hand cup his balls, slide up behind them, thumb rubbing over his taint before pressing against where Roman is driving in and out.

"Can you feel it baby, feel his knot? He's so happy you're under him, I can smell it. So happy you're accepting us. You ready to take him? Ready for him to make you ours?" Stiles moans out his acceptance, feels the tip of Derek's thumb press in alongside Roman, feels him tugging on his rim, pulling him open just as Roman shoves his knot in. They both gasp, Roman drooling even more over Stiles' neck. Derek holds him open, lets Stiles feel the knot popping in and out a few times, lets him feel how it's still swelling, before slipping his thumb free one Roman's last thrust. There's a sharp tug as Roman tests the tie, and Stiles has never felt so fucking full. 

Roman doesn't try to pull free again, instead his hips hunch harder, nearly grinding as his cock twitches and spits inside of Stiles, pumping him full of his hot, watery seed. The sound of Derek jacking off has stopped and it takes an effort for Stiles to turn his head and look, ass clenching down when he sees Derek's hand clamped tight at the base of his own cock, staving off his orgasm as he watches Roman tries to breed Stiles. It feels like it goes on forever, Derek's gaze glued to his ass, Roman hunching and filling him up, Stiles trying to milk him, enjoying the stretch and fullness of the knot inside of him. 

Derek doesn't move again until Roman starts shifting, helping him turn until they're ass to ass. Derek's hand is stroking soothing circles into Stiles' hip, and he's sure Derek is doing the same to Roman. He's murmuring soft enough that Stiles can't make out the words, but it helps keep him relaxed anyhow. The circles sweep wider and wider until they're shifting to caresses over Stiles' cheek, fingertips brushing through his cleft, probing at where Roman is locked inside of him. 

"So beautiful, so perfect. Look at you, spread wide on Roman's knot. Amazing. Love you so much." Derek's voice gets louder and Stiles feels him shift, leaking cock pressing against Stiles' thigh. The kiss against his rim is soft and sweet almost, but quickly changes pace, Derek's tongue darting out to lick over their joining tongue pressing against Stiles' rim, lapping at the come starting to slip out as the knot begins to shrink. The tugging is uncomfortable once Roman starts up, his knot small enough to pull free but not without effort. Stiles thinks this will always be his least favorite part. And that thought stops his breath a moment because it means he definitely doesn't plan to give any of this up. He's startled free of his revelation when the knot finally pops free, a wash of come running down the backs of his thighs. It doesn't last long though, Derek sealing his mouth over Stiles' hole as soon as Roman is out of the way. Stiles cries out when Derek sucks, tongue practically scooping the come free. It doesn't last long at all, Derek taking only a few mouthfuls before kneeling up, cock head tapping Stiles' loosened hole.

"Still okay?" Derek sounds nervous as he asks.

Stiles decides to act instead of answer, shoving himself back, his ass engulfing Derek's cock. It makes them both cry out before Derek manages to get a tight grip on his hips, holding him still. Derek can't stop him from squeezing and clenching down though, and Stiles moans as he feels the way that pushes more of Roman's come out around Derek's cock. 

"Could've just said yes." Derek grits the words out and Stiles can feel the faint pinprick of claws against his skin.

"Mmm, could've, didn't want to. Wanted you inside me now."

"Stiles…" 

"C'mon Der, fuck me. Wanna be full of both of you."

"Damn it Stiles, not gonna last if you keep that up." Derek is barely thrusting, hips hardly shifting back.

"Good. Don't wanna wait. Want your knot, your come, c'mon...so full already but I want more. Roman made me so wet for you." Derek groans again but pulls back until the tip of his cock is barely resting inside of Stiles. He waits a breath and then slams in hard, rocking them both. And then he does it again and again, and Stiles knows he's relishing the way Stiles squirms and writhes every time he pulls back, Stiles' ass practically mouthing at Derek's cockhead.

"Want you to feel it. Want you to remember you're ours." Derek picks up the pace, his own knot swelling rapidly. It doesn't take long at all before he's slamming home, locking himself inside of Stiles on a cry. Stiles clamps down tight when he does, practically screaming out his own release soaking the sheets beneath them. When Derek regains his bearings, cock still sluggishly filling Stiles, he grasps him gently around the waist and tips them to the side, holding Stiles tightly against his chest. He murmurs declarations of love and thanks into Stiles' hair, and Stiles shudders, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Roman joins them on the bed again, crawling across the sheets to lap gently at Stiles' cheeks, tasting his salty tears and bracketing his front.

"S'okay baby, don't cry, it's okay." Derek is trying to soothe him, and Stiles realizes he's thinking things have gone wrong somehow. It finally catapults him to speak again,his voice croaky with the need for water.

"M'okay. S'okay. Just a lot. Love you." He pats at Derek's arms, limbs still weak and wobbly, consciousness starting to drift away under the overwhelming morning he's had. He doesn't think he's alone in his exhaustion, can feel Derek's breathing evening out at his back, can see Roman as he settles, eyes closing, and Stiles lets himself fall into sleep.

The sun is only a little further along in the sky when Stiles wakes. Derek's knot had gone down while they slept and the bedding beneath him is drenched and sticky. He finds he doesn't really mind. Derek and Roman are missing, but Stiles can hear movement in the apartment so he gets up, wincing at the way his ass and back twinge when he stretches. He doesn't bother getting dressed as he moves to find them, figures he'll check in and shower. Derek is leaning against the kitchen counter, as naked as Stiles, mug of coffee in his hand. He pushes one towards Stiles as he wanders in and Stiles takes it gratefully. Roman is close, bent over a bowl of food.

"So, how do you feel?" Derek has his mask on, face carefully neutral, so Stiles leans on to press a kiss to his lips.

"Good. Better than I thought." Derek's relief is palpable, his body visibly relaxing, and it makes Stiles feel good. "We need to talk though." The words bring back a tenseness but Stiles doesn't let it settle in, nudging Derek's hip with his, running a finger low over his belly. "Calm down worry wolf. It's a good talk." Stiles catches his fingers and pulls Derek towards the living room and the laptop he'd abandoned last night. It's only when he gets there and realizes his ass is still dripping come that he hesitates. Luckily Derek doesn't seem to care, sitting down on the sofa in front of the laptop and dragging Stiles into his lap.

"Okay, so. Uh. I've been thinking. And I don't think you should move in." When Derek starts to tense, Stiles just wriggles down harder against him. "Let me finish." Derek makes a noise in his throat and Stiles drags Derek's arms tighter around his waist, petting him.

"I don't think you should move in because I'm going to put my house on the market. I've been doing a lot of...research...since you told me about you and Roman." Derek snorts into his hair, finally relaxing.

"Research? Is that what you're calling it?"

"Yes, smartass, research. Now shush." Stiles leans forward, pausing only briefly when the new angle pushes Derek's soft cock between his cheeks. It feels good and it distracts him until Derek pinches his hip.

"Keep that up and we'll never get to the point you're trying to make." Stiles grabs the laptop and sits back, clearing his throat.

"Right. So. In my _research_ , I came across something. Somewhere. Uh...it's not far but I was thinking of buying a house. It's, um, kind of a private community. Hard to find if you don't know where to look. But it's a place for people like you - us. Like us. Where we wouldn't have to hide. Any of this." Stiles is nervous, because as much as Derek had explained, he still wasn't sure if this was something Derek would want.

"What do you mean? About not having to hide?" Derek sounds hopeful and it settles Stiles.

"Everyone who lives there is like..y-us. They go on dates and don't have to hide their affections or their relationships. They don't have to hide who their lover is, like you and Roman aree. Like hopefully Roman and I will be." Derek makes a soft sound and tightens his grip, burying his face in Stiles' nape. "And it's not far. It's still close enough to Beacon Hills when they need us, and not so far out that my work would get suspicious. We couldn't really invite anyone out, but they're all busy anyhow, we could make the right kind of excuses. Or maybe even keep my house now and use that when we have to. But this could be ours. Yours and mine and Roman's. What do you think?"

"Yes. I think...yes, please." Stiles' heart swells at the thickness of Derek's voice and for the first time since he found out about Roman, Stiles feels like his world isn't crashing down around him. Instead he thinks that maybe it's finally really about to start.

**Author's Note:**

> Come prompt me on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/dirtyknots).  
> All of my additional contact information can be found on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile)!


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